The Perfect Life
But I’d never forget that kiss.
Not ever.
“I hold a hope in me
that the reason
we all feel so heavy
is that we carry
a little piece of
each other
inside us.”
–Christopher Poindexter
Monroe
TIME HAD NEVER moved as slowly as it did that night while I waited for Colin to get home from practice. Regardless of my attempts to keep busy by doing meaningless chores around the house, I played out at least ten different scenarios of how the conversation would go in my head, but to be quite honest, I had no idea how my husband was going to react when I told him that Oliver and I had kissed. It wasn’t as though we had a traditional marriage by any stretch of the imagination. I mean, he did cheat on me with Seth for the first few years we dated, and then—with my approval, of course—continued their on-and-off-again relationship ever since, even after we got married. But nevertheless, I had a hunch he wasn’t going to be thrilled with my news . . . and I despised confrontation, especially with the person I loved most in the world.
Unease gurgled in my stomach while dread pounded in my skull. I wished nothing more than for it to be the next day already, no matter what the outcome of the discussion would be; I just wanted it over. Emerging from the closet where I’d finished the annual autumn shift of my short-sleeved blouses and tanks to the back of the wardrobe while pushing the sweaters and cardigans forward, I looked over at the clock on the dresser. 10:17. Ugh . . . where in the world is he?
Trudging down the stairs to the kitchen for a hot chai latte and some graham crackers, I rubbed my temples with my fingertips as I quietly wished away the anxiety that throbbed insistently behind my eyes. When I reached the landing to the main level, I flipped on the light switch to illuminate the living room and dining area, and for the first time since we’d lived there, the house seemed empty and way too big. The space was decorated in rich, warm hues of burgundy and oak with oversized furniture that, at first glance, appeared to be homey and inviting, but other than waiting for Effie before the baseball game a few weeks prior, I couldn’t remember the last time Colin and I had hung out in there at the same time.
During the off-season, we ate breakfast together in the kitchen, but then he’d be off giving motivational speeches, being interviewed for articles and news pieces, and filming commercials, while I was either up at the campus library working on my thesis or at the children’s home, helping with the kids. We’d meet back in the kitchen for a quick dinner and a recap of our day before retreating to our separate master suites, only to start the entire process over the next day. Then, once training camp started, we became two ships passing in the night . . . or rather, in the early morning. Some days, I didn’t see him at all and our only communication was via text messages. We never watched movies or listened to music with one another anymore. He never asked me to help him study his playbook like he used to do in college. My life completely revolved around Mending Hearts and the kids, while his primary focus was football and branding his name.
Not that any of this was exactly new to me. It had been that way since we’d gotten married and moved from Ann Arbor to Boston, both of us planting our roots in the community where we planned to make our mark. It was what we both wanted. It was part of our plan. So what I couldn’t understand was why I suddenly felt so alone.
I drew in a deep breath and shook my head back and forth, jolting myself out of my melancholy thoughts. The roller coaster ride of emotions I’d been on throughout the day was taking its toll on me, physically and mentally, and I needed a relaxing bubble bath after my late-night snack. However, as soon as I turned my Keurig on to warm up for the tea, I heard the front door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps on the wood floor heading in my direction.
“Monroe? Are you down here?” Colin called out from the foyer just seconds before his bulky frame appeared under the archway leading into the kitchen. Pinning me with a concerned gaze, he surveyed me head-to-toe like he was searching for something wrong. “Why aren’t you in bed, babe? It’s late. Do you not feel well?”
“Hey, you.” I threw him a small smile as I grabbed a ceramic mug from the cabinet. “I’m good . . . feeling fine. I was just waiting for you to get home so I could to talk to you about something.”
Cocking his head with confusion, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. “Why didn’t you call me? What’s going on?”
“It isn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone,” I explained as I kept my eyes locked on the hot, frothy drink pouring out of the machine and into the cup, “but I didn’t want to worry you or ask you to come home early from practice. It’s really not that big a deal . . . just need to talk.”
Swiftly closing the distance between us, he wrapped his burly arms around my shoulders, spinning me around into a bear hug. “Roe, baby, anytime you need me, you call. I don’t care how important you think it is or what I’m doing.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head then leaned back to peer down into my eyes. “You know better than that, sweetie. Now what is it you want to talk to me about? You’ve got my full attention.”
I swallowed hard, hoping to find my voice behind the lump of nerves lodged in the back of my throat. All of the ways I’d rehearsed leading him into the story—explaining to him how I knew that Oliver was different from the first time we met at the gala and how comfortable and at ease I was around him, much like I was with Colin . . . it all flew straight out the window when I opened my mouth to speak.
“Oliver kissed me today in the parking lot of the DCF,” I blurted out in a single breath, then backed up a few steps and waited wide-eyed for his response.
So much for finesse.
For a few moments, he just stood there frozen and silent, not blinking or even breathing that I could tell. My heart pounded out the drum line of trepidation behind my ribcage as I waited for him to react, so violently that I was certain he could hear it. Nausea rose higher in my chest with each passing second, and right when I was about to open my mouth and start talking again, he stopped me by raising his hand in the air and shaking his head.
“Don’t,” he ground out through a clenched jaw. “Don’t you even dare start making excuses for him, Monroe, so help me God . . .”
Spinning away from me, he began pacing the floor as he ran frustrated fingers through his short hair, mumbling something incoherent to himself. I didn’t know what to do—or to say, for that matter—so I watched with every muscle in my body coiled as tightly as they could possibly get while he processed the information. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he stopped and jerked his chin in my direction.
“What’s the address of his apartment?” he snapped, his eyes glowing red with rage.
“Wh-what? Wh-why?” I stammered.
He slammed his palm down on the marble countertop and roared, “Because I’m gonna go over there and make sure-and-fucking-well that he never touches you again, Monroe! Who in the hell does he think he is, waltzing his skinny, four-eyed dorky ass into town and putting the moves on my fucking wife? That shit doesn’t fly with me, and it sure-as-shit shouldn’t fly with you. Not only is it disrespectful as hell to both of us, but doing it right out in the open, where anyone could see? He might as well have rented out a goddamn billboard at the next fucking home game that says ‘I’m seducing the quarterback’s wife!’ It’s unacceptable, and it’s not going to happen again. I don’t care if I have to call Allison myself and get his ass fired from Mending Hearts. He needs to know he’s screwing with the wrong fucking dude!”
In the seven or so years I’d known Colin, I may have heard him say a handful of curse words, and it was always because he’d physically injured himself, never because he lost control of his temper. And though I didn’t expect him to be overly joyous about the whole announcement, I definitely wasn’t expecting his nasty response. I was completely taken aback, and unexp
ectedly, I felt the need to defend Oliver to my husband.
“It wasn’t like that. It just happened . . . an in-the-moment kinda thing,” I argued. “He wasn’t trying to seduce me. Oliver isn’t that kind of a guy.”
“Not that kind of a guy?! Are you kidding me?” he sneered, throwing his arms up in the air with exasperation. “What kind of guy relocates to a new city, where he’s supposed to be helping set up a home for kids who’ve been abused, for Christ sakes, and within five fucking minutes of being there, is sticking his tongue down the throat of his very married colleague? Who, in case you may have forgotten in your moment, is easily intimidated and unsettled around other men. I know you said that Allison swears he’s a good guy, and that you feel comfortable around him or what-the-fuck-ever, but as a guy myself and as your husband, I’m telling you right now he took advantage of your meek, compliant personality, and only weasely pieces of shits do that kind of thing!”
I shook my head adamantly, frustrated he wasn’t understanding. “No, Colin, he’s not. I swear to you, Oliver’s different. I like him, and I wanted the kiss just as much as he did.”
And . . . gasoline, meet fire.
“What in the hell did you just say?! Do you even hear the shit coming out of your mouth?” His face turned beet red as the angry words exploded from his mouth, and instinctively, I retreated away from him. “Let’s forget for a minute that I am the only person that you’ve ever kissed in your entire life—and that there’s a pretty damn serious reason for that—and let’s focus on what that kiss you claim you wanted could’ve cost you . . . and what it could’ve cost us.
“We’ve worked too damn hard over the last five years to build this life—this life that we both wanted,” he admonished, his booming voice reverberating off the walls as he shook a livid finger at me, “to throw it all away for a fucking kiss or roll in the sheets with some yahoo from the Midwest that you know not a damn thing about! Best-case scenario, in six months, he’ll return home and brag to all of his pencil-dick friends about how he hooked up with Clutch Cassidy’s wife while he was here, making you look like a stupid whore and me a fucking schmuck. Worst-case, you get caught by some random person with a camera phone who’s only interested in selling to the highest bidder, and the next day, everything we’ve busted our asses for is gone. Gone! Do you have any idea of the field day the media would have with that? Your life . . . my life . . . destroyed.”
Angry tears began to cascade down my cheeks as he lectured me. I was mad at Colin for making me feel small and stupid, and even more incensed at myself for not pointing out what a hypocrite he was being. But I just continued to stand there and listen to him rant on, because ultimately, I knew he was right.
“If this is about being curious and having sexual urges, Monroe, just tell me.” Both his voice and expression softened as he took a step toward me. “I didn’t really expect you to be celibate your entire life, despite you insisting otherwise, but we can do something about that where there’s no chance of getting caught or getting emotions involved. I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while, when I knew this day would come, and I think I have the perfect solution. You know Seth loves you and thinks the world of you, and I’m sure he’d be super gentle and take—”
“OH MY FUCKING GOD, STOP!” I burst out before he could finish his appalling suggestion, holding my arms out in front of me to keep him from getting any closer. Blood rushed through my ears as I flew into a rage. “You wanna talk about the words coming out of my mouth?! Were you really about to suggest that I allow your boyfriend to help me with my sexual urges? What fucking planet do you live on where that could ever sound like a good idea?!”
Abruptly, the tables turned in the argument and it became me stalking forward, and my husband backpedaling through the kitchen, my finger jabbing him in the chest. “Look, I know our arrangement is far from normal, and I also know I agreed to this life, but if anything were to ever happen again between Oliver and me, I’d be sure to make sure it was somewhere safe so our,” I motioned back and forth between the two of us with my hand, “precious, perfect life wouldn’t be put at risk.
“I’m not a fucking dumbass, Colin, but for you to propose that I fuck Seth to appease my goddamn curiosities, I’m starting to think that you are! What, were you planning on watching him with me? Would that turn you on? Or is it because you get jealous thinking about him being with women on nights he’s not here?” Cruel, wounding words spewed from my mouth for no other reason than to make him hurt, but I couldn’t control myself. The fight was no longer about my and Oliver’s kiss. “Were you hoping if he started fucking me regularly that he wouldn’t go out looking for other pussy and you could just keep him here all the time? That way, you could control both of us and keep us all to yourself. After all, that’s what you really want, right? Control? You want to control the world. If both of us really play our cards right, we may be the fucking President and First Lady before it’s all said and done, and Seth can be your own personal Monica Lewinsky!”
“Sorry, but I refuse to wear a blue dress,” Seth’s unexpected voice broke through my tirade, and both Colin and I swung our heads over to where he stood in the doorway. Throughout our screaming back and forth, neither of us had heard him let himself in, and I had no idea how long he’d been there, but based on the hard ticking of his jaw and the daggers flying from his stare, I assumed it was enough.
Colin moved toward him instantly, but Seth shook his head and warned, “Not another step.”
My husband froze midstride, despair written all over his face. “Seth, please, baby, give me a chance to explain,” he beseeched. “It’s not how she made it seem.”
A cynical smirk played on the corners of Seth’s mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. “Funny, ‘cause I’m pretty damn sure I just heard you propose to your wife that she use me for her sexual pleasure,” he glanced over and shot me a sympathetic smile before turning his attention back to Colin, “and though it’s true, I do love Monroe like a sister, and I’m admittedly adventurous in bed, incest isn’t really my thing. Not to mention, having the person who supposedly loves me more than anyone else in the world offer me up like I’m a fucking possession doesn’t really say a lot about that love.”
“I wasn’t treating you like a possession,” Colin contended with a frustrated huff.
“The hell you weren’t!” Seth shot back. “It’s how you’ve always treated me. Our relationship only works when it’s on your terms. I only get you when it’s convenient for you. If you’ve had a bad day at practice or if you’re not feeling well or if you’re horny, you call and I’m supposed to appear on command . . . which I always do, because I’m so fucking in love with you I’ll take you any way I can get you! I’m glad you get jealous when you see me with women, because now you know how I fucking feel all of the time I don’t get to be with you. No one else would put up with this shit, but we do it, because we love you! It’s not fair to Monroe, it’s not fair to me, and if you’d pull your head out of your parents’ and the public’s ass far enough to see straight, you’d realize it’s not fair to you either! I thought after our last break that things would be different, but they’re not. And it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that they never will be.”
Stopping to take a deep breath, Seth scrubbed his hands up and down his face then dropped his arms to his sides with slumped shoulders. “Look, Colin, you know how I feel. I’ll love you until the day I die, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m still your best friend and your biggest fan, and I still want to be a part of your life, but the rest is over. I’m tired of getting my hopes up for more, only for them to come crumbling down time and time again. You need to figure out what you really want out of this life, and I hope to God you realize what a gem of a wife you have to put up with this shit. ‘Cause I can guaran-fucking-tee you that nobody else would.”
And with that, Seth spun around and marched out of the house, the slamming door
an exclamation mark on his visit.
I didn’t dare move or speak, hoping Colin would stomp to his room without any more confrontation, but I couldn’t be so lucky. He turned to me and glowered, his nostrils flared and his face flush. “I really hope that kiss was worth all of this.”
Defiantly, I lifted my chin in the air and marched past him, pausing just before I escaped to my room. “I really hope you are.”
“Her eyes carried
a certain kind
of silence that
begged to be
understood and I
felt as if I was
a scientist,
staring with eager,
fervent eyes into
galaxies that have not
yet had the chance
to be named.”
–Christopher Poindexter
Oliver
MONROE KNOCKED ON the door at precisely nine o’clock, and although I’d been counting down the minutes for her to arrive ever since the moment she’d left, I suddenly wasn’t ready to face her. I’d spent the entire night going back and forth between replaying that fucking kiss in my mind and beating myself up for acting so thoughtlessly. So selfishly. All I wanted was to pretend like it never happened, to erase the way her soft lips welcomed mine and how having her body pressed against me felt like the most natural thing in the world. But it was impossible. She’d hijacked my every thought.
Dark half-moons perched atop her cheeks were the first thing I noticed when I swung the door open. At least I wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep. She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her usually bright eyes, and held out one of the steaming paper cups she was holding in my direction.
“I wasn’t sure how you took it, but you strike me as a guy who likes his coffee black,” she announced as she walked inside, careful that our fingers didn’t touch when she passed the coffee off to me, “but if you don’t like it, I can drink yours too. This stuff is like crack . . . or what I think crack would be like, because I mean, obviously, I’ve never done crack.” She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to face where I still stood, holding an open door. “Well, close the door, for Pete’s sakes. Do you want your entire hall to listen to me ramble on like an idiot? It’s bad enough I act like this in front of you, but I’d rather not share my foolish behavior with your neighbors too.”